Remembering Sunday
by Nina Cehad
Summary: After over a decade of marriage, Derek struggles with coping with Penelope's sudden death. Based on the song "Remembering Sunday" by All Time Low. Beta'd by emzypemzy. R&R please!


Remembering Sunday

Derek Morgan had aged well: he had no hair, but he'd still maintained the set jaw and strong build of his youth. His eyes still twinkled, and true, it did take him longer to get out of bed, but he was still very much the same. His joints just creaked a little bit extra, and he couldn't kick down doors anymore, that was all.

---

He'd fallen into a depression. A dark daze. His days were a blur, starting with a drink and ending in a drink which usually induced his troubled sleep. He was irresponsible, and pathetic, he knew, but he coped the only way he knew how. The vice helped him forget. It was an analgesic to the waves of loss clouding his mind every waking minute.

---

He sits at the table for breakfast, even though it's three in the afternoon, with a heavy heart. He stares at the empty seat across the table like he always does, has done for two years, letting the memory invade his thoughts.

_Penelope couldn't cook. Still, he ate her eggs with vigor every morning. She seemed to make them differently every morning, and she sure didn't do it on purpose. Whether they were burnt beyond recognition or barely past salmonella, he consumed them, because she'd made them for _him.

_They'd retired from the BAU almost a decade ago, filling their days with long walks and trips to the library or the super market. However, since Derek's arthritis began to flare too often and Penelope's eyesight began to fade, their days had changed. They'd been spending less time outside and more time in the hospital for checkups and the like._

_Penelope sits down to her toast, but decides she's hungry for something else. She grabs his hand and led him upstairs with a sly grin._

He missed her.

---

He shuffles outside, shivering in the breeze. He knocks on the door with a shaking hand. A forty-some woman answers the door. Her face clouds when she sees him.

"I don't mean to be a bother, but have you seen this girl?" He points to his picture of a younger, smiling, Penelope. Nadine glances behind her, hoping something will come up and she'll have an excuse not to break his spirit. Derek doesn't notice this and he continues to stare at them expectantly, hopeful.

"I'm sorry, she's not here." Nadine Davis says with regret. The look on his face almost makes her wish she'd lied. Such a sad story, that one was. Thirty years, and then, poof, she was just. . .gone. She'd had a heart attack. Nadine's heart squeezed every time she saw Mr. Morgan. Almost every day he came by, to look for her, forgetting that she was in heaven.

---

Nadine closes the door with a sigh. Once again, she'd avoided doing the thing she'd resolved to do the first time she had seen Mr. Morgan shuffling over to her house in search of his late wife, the photo flapping in the breeze.

Derek stumbles back to his house. He is weak; it shows in the grimace on his face and the pace at which he walks. He pours some Jack and downs it. He is weary, tired; so tired. His heart and his head and his limbs ached. He retires to his bed - an unlikely custom these days, for it was usually the easy chair or the couch- and slips into a sleep he so desperately needs.

---

"_Derek," _he hears. He can see nothing but blinding _white_, as if he's staring directly into the sun. He then realizes that the light is being caused by the light of her halo. He cannot see her but he imagines she looks the way she did the day he first fell in love with her. She looked so beautiful then, he recalls. _"Derek, I've done a terrible thing."_

"It's okay, Precious, it's okay." Derek murmurs, tossing in his bed.

"_The day I passed on, we argued about taxes. There had been a mistake that had lost us some money. Ninety-three dollars and fifty-four cents. Do you remember that? We argued about whose fault it was. Little did I know the last words I'd say to you were 'Fine, go'. _

"_And you did. I'm sure you didn't go far. You probably sat on that bench on the street corner, wanting to go back but not letting yourself, being the stubborn man you were. You always did go to that bench. I wanted so much to go out there and apologize, but I was stubborn and prideful as well. No one wants to admit to a mistake._

"_Derek, if I had only known…"_

"It's all right, Penelope, it's all right." Derek mumbles in a half-dream state.

"_I'm sorry." _Derek closes his eyes tighter as he feels the light begin to grow stronger until it is filling up every inch of his vision. "_It's time for you to come home. Home…"_

---

That was how they'd found him. He died peacefully in his sleep, they said. Natural causes. The grocery boy had come over in the morning to give him the weekly groceries and when no one had answered, he'd called the paramedics.

Nadine wasn't upset when she heard. Relieved, yes. Saddened, maybe a little. Whatever sadness she felt was surely eclipsed by the joy she felt, knowing he was where he belonged; up in heaven with Penelope.


End file.
